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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29952384">sticks and stones may break my bones, but your words will break my heart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/clairefraser/pseuds/clairefraser'>clairefraser</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Outlander (TV) RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Misunderstandings, Unresolved Romantic Tension</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 00:55:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,262</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29952384</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/clairefraser/pseuds/clairefraser</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Five words.</p><p>Five words to break his heart.</p><p>Five words to remind him that she'll never see him as he sees her. </p><p>
  <em>"We're like brother and sister."</em>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Caitriona Balfe/Sam Heughan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>57</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>sticks and stones may break my bones, but your words will break my heart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Inspired by that God awful interview from today. Also this is fiction.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Funny the things you remember, the memories that linger when all else fades away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Senses, perhaps a smell, a taste.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A place you had once been.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A sight you had once seen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For him, it's the things that people say.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even from the beginning, he'd known that to survive in this career, he would need a thicker skin, to learn to let things roll off his back, not be bogged down by the words of others. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But it's bloody hard.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Try as he might to forget, he remembers. Harsh criticisms and baseless insults and horrific attacks on him as an actor, on him as a person. Words meant to hurt him, cut him down, and while he does find himself bothered by such things, nothing can compare to the ever-present pain he feels from the memory of a single line.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Five words.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Five words to break his heart.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Five words to remind him that she'll never see him as he sees her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"We're like brother and sister."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She'd only said it just the once, but once was enough to drive a knife into his chest and cleave him in two.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He remembers it all too well, like a scene rehearsed a thousand times, replaying in his mind at the unlikeliest of times. She'd asked to meet up with him one weekend when they weren't filming, and he'd dropped everything to be there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anything, to spend another moment with her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But God, how he regrets his decision now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He'd arrived in high spirits, ordered her a pint and tried not to let his nervous energy show. And then she walked through the door, the chilly Glasgow winds whipping her hair up into a frenzy. His pulse raced at the sight of her, sweat gathering on his palms, at the back of his neck and then-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He realised she wasn't alone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hand in hand and all smiles and God, to see her so happy, his heart soared. To see her with another man, it damn near killed him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She'd come forward and made the introductions, and he had to resist every urge in his body to crush the hand he was shaking, slapping on a fake smile he reserved for the cameras and spitting out pleasantries he certainly didn't mean.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"This is Sam. Don't be fooled by what you've seen on the telly, </span>
  <em>
    <span>we're like brother and sister.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His knees had gone so weak in that moment he'd collapsed back into his seat, masking his stumble by picking up his glass and downing the entire shot of whisky in one go.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brother and sister.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Brother and sister.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He'd known, had a feeling, from the moment she first walked into that little office in Los Angeles, eyes like blue flames, clad in a plaid dress, breathless and cheeks dusted with a rosy hue-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He'd known then, that she had the power to destroy him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And he was right.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>In time, those words become armour for him, something he can use to deflect interviewers, when saying anything else would have him looking like an utter fool. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The questions are always relentless, and always posed in such a manner he feels as though people truly have no regard for his feelings. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Or hers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Christ, it's not as though he blames her for this, for saying those words and not loving him back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's not her fault. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If anything, he's the one that needs to stop harbouring affection for her, to put an end to all this nonsense.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But as all things are-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's much easier said than done.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Things don't end after she gets married.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In fact, the questions somehow get worse.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wonders if his entire life is one big joke at times, if people are purposely trying to get him to slip up and admit to things that would cause a fallout he knows they cannot recover from.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He feels like a liar each time he sits in front of a camera.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pretending.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Acting as though he's unaffected, that she means nothing more to him than a friend. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"She's like my sister," </span>
  </em>
  <span>he says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But having such thoughts about one's sister would be a one-way ticket straight to hell. </span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Caitríona knows that she only has herself to blame for it, that she is the sole reason for the failures in her life. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her husband- well, ex-husband now she supposes, hadn't even batted an eyelash when she told him she couldn't do it anymore, couldn't sit across from him at the dining room table and pretend that they were fine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pretend that they were happy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He's known.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That entire time, he'd known.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Despite her best efforts to commit herself to a union she thought could bring stability to an otherwise chaotic life, she'd failed. Made herself miserable. Made him miserable.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Sam-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He's the root of all her problems.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When they're in a room together, even if there are a hundred others surrounding them, trying to get her attention, she can't take her eyes off him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There's an invisible pull, one that she's helpless to resist.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One she had tried so hard to run from, taken the most drastic of measures. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She feels so incredibly foolish about it all now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Distancing herself from him, making sure that there would be no opportunity for anything more serious to develop, creating these boundaries that did little to stop her heart from skipping a beat each time they locked gazes-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For what?</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>She steers clear of social media when they're filming together. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It makes life a little easier that way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Things between her and Sam are… they've changed, in a way that makes her heart clench painfully, her guts twist.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He's more guarded around her than before-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before when they were friends, tiptoeing across the line into something more. She's the one that changed the dynamic, so she has no one to blame but herself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's not his fault.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She keeps up with his day to day by perusing interviews online between scenes in her trailer. It's creepy perhaps, to do such a thing, but it's not so easy to walk up to him and ask how he is anymore. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Whenever she hears her name, she flushes, feels her heart race.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tells herself that he's only doing so out of a contractual obligation, but pretending that he thinks of her as she thinks of him.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Putting on a costume, stepping into character and kissing the man she's been in love with for years is not as difficult as it might sound. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's what comes next that makes things hard. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When they break apart as the director yells cut and she tries not to let herself linger, to let her thoughts show. She might not have a glass face like Claire, but Sam has always had an uncanny ability to sense when she's bothered by something.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She can feel the weight of his gaze upon her, wonders if he can tell just by looking that she's not quite all right. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That she feels as though the world around her is slowly falling to pieces.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's been a long day and no one questions it when she immediately flees to change and wash off the make-up. They all think she's rushing to head home.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Home.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her apartment no longer feels like it deserves such a title.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No husband, no Eddie.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An empty shell that reminds her how utterly alone she is now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She retreats to her trailer and busies herself with scripts, learning lines, anything to delay the inevitable. And when there's nothing left to do, she falls into a trap once more, scouring the internet for interviews with her co-star. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What she finds tonight has her blood boiling. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's not fair to Sam, to always be questioned in such a way, to be put on the spot and forced to answer things that people wouldn't dare to ask her. But it's been like this since the beginning. He's always taken the brunt of the invasive questions, inappropriate comments.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It brings forth a rage in her she hadn't known existed until the first time she saw him break down over abuse from supposed fans. She'd been able to comfort him then, offer him a shoulder to lean on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But now she's helpless to do anything but watch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then he says it once more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"We're like brother and sister."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stops watching after that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stops breathing for a moment too.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And starts drinking.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam doesn’t know what possesses him to do it - in fact, he’s not entirely sure his mind is in the right place as his feet take him to Caitríona’s trailer. It’s a path that’s all too familiar to him because just passing by and knowing she’s inside, safe, it’s enough to give him the peace to head home. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But tonight, his footsteps falter as he passes by.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He can hear her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crying.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It tears his guts out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He tells himself he’s just being a good friend, a good co-worker, by checking on her. It’s not because the sound of her in pain is killing him, that it’s taking all his self-control not to just break down the door of her trailer, rush inside and hold her in his arms, wipe away her tears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But no-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He restrains himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Knocks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Softly at first and then a little harder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And the sight of her almost knocks him off his feet.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>When she sees him, standing there in front of her, a frantic and wild look in her eyes, she thinks she must be dreaming. Perhaps she’d passed out after getting blind drunk and imagined his presence to fill the hole in her heart. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A way of coping with the pain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But then he speaks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And she crumbles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Caitríona-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A singular word. Her name. And the floodgates open, tears careening down her cheeks, her chest rattling with the force of her sobs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>God this is awful. The thought of him seeing her like this, breaking down and breaking apart. She wants to tell him to leave, to go away and allow her to wallow in her misery. But she knows him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Her</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sam. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s not waxing poetics when she tells interviewers that he’s a gentle soul, kind and caring and so incredibly giving. There’s no way he’ll walk away from her now, but it doesn’t stop her from trying to turn her back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Trying. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His hand shoots out and stops her before she has moved an inch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t ask, doesn’t question, just steps forward and kicks the door shut behind him, drawing her into his embrace, cradling the back of her head with one hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She crumbles into him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Time passes as she trembles in his arms, allowing him to soothe her. She’s not quite conscious of anything else but the steady thrum of his heart beneath her cheek, but when she blinks back into reality, they’re sitting together on the edge of her tiny bed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His shirt is soaked with her tears and she's half in his lap and if she were capable of making rational decisions, she would pull herself away before their fragile friendship is pushed past the point of no return.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he's warm and safe and the thought of extricating herself from his hold is so off putting that she curls in further, slipping her arm around him to anchor herself in place. His fingers are combing through her hair, his other hand rubbing circles against her back, and how incredibly easier it is to just close her eyes and pretend.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pretend that she means something to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he means everything to her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Time passes, and then he murmurs her name.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her heart stutters in response, involuntarily. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Are you okay?" he asks, even though it's clear that she isn't. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s not quite sure what compels her to do it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe it’s that she feels so incredibly safe and loved and protected with him beside her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe it’s the warmth melting her ice cold heart.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She chooses honesty.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To bare her soul to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m not okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This moment reminds her so much of Jamie and Claire, their connection, that first time at Castle Leoch. They had been strangers and yet Claire had trusted Jamie. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam is no stranger to her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even on paper they’re co-stars, friends, confidantes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And this, whatever is hovering in the air between them now - to her, it’s more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t ask anything more of her, only pulls back a little, cupping her face with one large hand, his thumb brushing over a stray tear on her cheek. His touch is so delicate it breaks her all over again, and she leans into his palm, chasing the skin on skin contact. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She </span>
  <em>
    <span>needs</span>
  </em>
  <span> him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The last rational part of her mind is screaming at her to stop, to turn and run before it's too late, but her instincts win over. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He thinks of you like a sister, </span>
  </em>
  <span>the thought echoes in her mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She leans in anyway, until they're so close he's invaded all of her senses. His expression is unreadable but she sees the way his eyes widen slightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Time passes and then it stops altogether.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suspended in this moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And when it begins to move again, it takes the last bit of her heart with it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He draws back so suddenly she almost topples over with the force of it. The shock. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Caitríona knew that there'd be a day where Sam destroyed her so completely she could never recover from it. But she's tried to run only to end up here again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She's ready to be torn apart.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Feels it happening as the seconds tick by.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The apologies spill from her, as do the tears, and she truly expects him to run now, to never properly look her in the eye again. For their relationship to be strictly professional, for the friendship to end.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he surprises her once more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stays there, stock still, leaning back against one side of her trailer, watching her, eyes clouded with confusion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You're-" he stutters out, shaking his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Like your bloody sister, I know," she snaps back, overcome with a flood of emotion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He recoils at first, at her words perhaps, or at her aggression. But then she sees the way his shoulders grow stiff, the muscles in his neck straining, follows the length of his arm down to his fists, clenched by his side.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What would you have me say, Caitríona?" He says between gritted teeth, and God, she's seen him angry before, but not at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Never at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I- not that," she stammers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He laughs then, low and dark, and begins to move away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You're the one who said it to me," he mutters, not even turning back to glance at her once more, heading towards the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wants to throw herself forward, make him stop and listen, let her explain. She wants to go back to five minutes ago, feeling safe in his arms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She needs-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I lied!" she shouts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stills in his movement, attention captured, and she tries not to heave as she forces the rest of the words out, rushing before he can escape.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You weren't safe… I wanted safe. I wanted steady," she says, standing. With each word she moves closer to him, until he is within arm's reach, but she doesn't dare touch him. "I was terrified to let myself be broken again. And you- I wanted you. Even on the day I was marrying another man I thought of you. And when I left him, I thought of you. And if you don't feel the same way, we can pretend this never happened and you can leave. Right now."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She tries to sound strong, to fight against the waver in her voice, but she's trembling so much she's barely able to stay upright. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And when there's nothing more to say, she looks down at the ground, preparing for the slam of a door, preparing to break down once more- this time, alone, with no one, nothing to bring her any comfort. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She hears his ragged breathing, hears the shuffle of his feet and chances a glance upwards.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finds herself staring into pools of the deepest blue, rimmed in red, swimming in tears. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He surges forward, and her back hits the wall before she even has a chance to react and then he's kissing her, furiously, desperately, stealing the breath from her lungs. She clings to him, hands moving into his hair, fingers clutching at the short strands. Her body is flush with his and she can feel each and every inch of him against her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Sam," she gasps out against his lips even as he whispers her name.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He gives her another kiss, softer, gentle this time, and then rests his forehead against hers, arms around her waist, holding her in place, not letting her go.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I want you," he murmurs, "but you reek of </span>
  <em>
    <span>my whisky,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and I don't want you to regret this in the morning."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smiles and she nods, laughing despite the tears. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wants him, badly. Wants him to take her, gently and then roughly, fast and slow, frenzied and passionate. She wants to fuck him, be fucked by him, for them to make love to one another. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But not yet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They need to talk things out first.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To truly know what it is between them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Love, surely. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But she fears that it may be too soon to say such things, though she has had these feelings for eight years.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Longer than any relationship she's ever been in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the end, she doesn't have to worry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What you said before, about me calling you my-" he cuts himself off, sheepish expression on his face. "Did you listen to what I said after?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At the shake of her head, he smiles softly, brushing his nose against hers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I said that we loved each other, that I was lucky that it was what Outlander had given me. And I don't know how you feel, but I do love you," he tells her, before lowering his voice and whispering </span>
  <em>
    <span>"mo ghràidh".</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's her that kisses him now, dragging him with her until they land on her bed in a tangle of limbs, curling up together like a pair of four-legged octopuses. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She moves her hand up to his jaw, brushes her knuckles against the prickly stubble there. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I love you," she murmurs, nuzzling his cheek with her own, "and I'm so lucky to be with you too. So lucky that the stars aligned for us."</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>She's no longer just his co-star, his friend, his confidante.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When they're both ready for it, they don't try to hide their love any longer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She watches his next interview from behind the camera, waiting for him to shoehorn her into the conversation despite no one having asked. He'd always done it before, and does it even more so now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Caitríona and I had great fun on set this season. I'm so lucky to have her, she's my other half, my partner for life, and I'm quite proud to let you know, she's um, she's my wife now."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His smile is so wide it must hurt and she cannot help but smile back, but keeps quiet, not wanting to disturb him. The interviewer has follow up questions and Caitríona relaxes back into her seat, resting one hand over the swell of her belly, admiring the diamond ring on her left-hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam doesn't mention brothers and sisters in his interviews again, not until they announce the arrival of their second little girl. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
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